


Phantom Ring

by teenagewristband



Category: Common Law (sort of), White Collar
Genre: Angst, M/M, Spoilers for 5x02 5x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagewristband/pseuds/teenagewristband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may not be what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was planning to marathon Season 5 and got as far as episode 2 and this happened. I don't know if there's any more revealed about Agent David Siegel after what happened at the end of episode 2 because I had to immediately stop and deal with this plot bunny. Something about his presentation seemed...He was a little too accommodating for someone who was going to see Neal for the criminal he is.

Neal wishes he could say that he's surprised. But if he gives it half a thought, less than that really it's more textbook than a surprise. On paper David Siegel looks to be the agent to _see him for who he is_ , but the reality, the reality puts most of the leverage in Neal's hands. Agent Siegel may have the enthusiasm and passion for his job, like Peter did, does but he doesn't have an Elizabeth and that's the thing that's got them here right now. Instead he has an anti-Elizabeth and willful disownment from his family that makes him a kind of low hanging fruit. New in town, feeling the pressure to impress at a new job and a failed marriage behind him.

Agent Siegel's previous charge and his forged lottery tickets have given the agent an inflated sense of accomplishment. Lottery tickets, it makes Neal smile. A man who was going to treat Neal like a criminal wouldn't fish for and then take his advice about where to live in the city, wouldn't share so openly about his own family, wouldn't have forgotten that where Neal lives in the city wasn't strictly by choice. To have forgotten that so early on, Neal's got him. Not in the same way he's got Peter, because that's a mutual having. Peter has him as well. Family. No truer indication of that than this mess he's in with Hagen. His relationship with Siegel won't ever be that deep, but for now, this moment is nice, but no not a surprise.

Neal relaxes under the Agent's clumsy hands. Earlier in the day Siegel had put in an offer on a pre-war townhouse in the Village. He'd checked Neal's ankle monitor then invited him for a drink as a 'thank you.' Having reached an impasse on figuring Hagen's endgame, he agreed. Learning more about his new handler could only work to his advantage. Neal suggested the place, all dark wood and soft light with enough other 'suits' to make the Agent feel right at home or...

 

Neal had watched as the Agent nursed his third drink to Neal's carefully considered one. Caught up in the euphoria of putting down roots, the other man had downed his first one pretty quickly. The second one went a little more slowly as he described with delightful enthusiasm the hardwood floors, built-ins and private elevator with Siegel buttons. 

 

He's not going to make any mock protest or pretend he doesn't go this way. He does. He will. The clumsiness of the hands on him speak not to the unfamiliarity of finding hard in place of soft , but to the waver between clutching the fabric of Neal's suit or smoothing over it with a wanton caress. Caffrey wonders if this was a contributing factor to the phantom ring. If the former Mrs. Siegel could have eventually adjusted to being married to the FBI or if this was also an issue. A greater than eighty percent solve rate _would_ be attractive to a g-man careerist, but the opportunity to make out with men up against the sides of buildings without being recognized by anyone who knows your old money family might also have appeal. People have patterns. Neal wonders, before he plants his feet just a little bit more to steady them both against the wall, what else might have gone on with Siegel and his first C.I. 

 

It's obvious the Agent is working with a little alcohol inspired courage, but he'd been easy with Neal from the start. Certainly the Agent was trying to get a read on Neal by going for the ego stroke, but that ease...He'd mentioned a tell at their first meeting and maybe that had been it. For all of Peter's assertions that his new handler would treat Caffrey like the criminal he was, Neal has already been able to pull a major heist on the new guy's watch. He makes a note to check into the specific circumstances surrounding the lottery forger being sent back to prison, both what was on the record and what wasn't. Like the lack of surprise at finding his arms suddenly full of federal agent, it wouldn't surprise Neal to find that Agent Siegel and the man he sent back to prison were intimate. 

 

Neal rubs his thumbs across Siegel's waist, urging his body closer. It's not going to go much beyond these kisses. Not that Neal is against more. With Hagen on his ass he will need all the leverage he can get, but for it to be true leverage Siegel needs to be fully sober. What's happening now is enough to at least get the conversation started. They've got probably a couple more minutes before it reaches the point of no return. If Siegel doesn't pull his tongue out of Neal's mouth in a few minutes, he'll put a stop to the proceedings and put the man in a cab. Letting the concerns of the last couple of off-kilter weeks flow out of his head, Neal strokes a hand across the nape of his handler's neck as his tongue tangles with the other man's and revels in the heat and press of their bodies against each other.

“You smell really good.” Neal can't help the grin that spreads across his face as Agent Siegel catches his breath by nosing at the side of his face.

“And that's the cue to put you in a cab.” One arm around the Agent for balance, Neal steps to the corner to hail a cab. A few minutes later as he safely deposits the other man in the back of a cab, “You want to talk about the way I smell, invite me to see those hardwood floors in person.”

Siegel winks at him as his cab pulls into traffic, “Goodnight Caffrey.” 

**************

A day later as Neal stares at Agent David Siegel's lifeless body, the phantom feel of the dead man's tongue in his mouth assails him. His grip tightens around the handle of his umbrella. This will get Peter back. Temporarily. Where a few hours ago that would have brought some joy, this moment it brings nothing but sorrow for the tragic end to David Siegel's new beginning.


	2. Phantom Limb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal follows up on a hunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of about 5x07, (still haven't finished Season 5 yet) I don't think much movement has happened on the Siegel murder investigation. So I filled in more blanks to my liking and borrowed an AUishTravis Marks from Common Law to help out. 
> 
> Angst and sadness awaits.

The swelling and presence of some bruising on the man's face does nothing to detract from his attractiveness. The brilliant blue eyes are there, just like in the mugshot. No way to really mitigate that effect and although the flirtatious smile from his mugshot is absent, it occurs to Neal that he might have actually been a rebound. It's a novel idea. He's never been a rebound before, but it would seem David Siegel had a type. And Neal definitely isn't the one who got there first.

“So it's true.”

This is Peter's area, but they decided they would do it confidence man to confidence man from the beginning. There was no time to waste on good cop/bad cop or whatever. If Neal has gauged the relationship correctly, and it appears he has, this man won't need any coaxing or sleight of hand to gain his assistance. 

Neal gives a slight nod to confirm, although his and Peter's being there is apparently all the confirmation the man in front of him needed. 

_“That stupid son of a bitch.”_ Sadness laces through the vehemence. “Dammit, D.” The convict bends at the waist, bracing his hands against his thighs. His head bows as a shudder runs through him. 

It only lasts a moment, before Travis Marks recovers his composure and takes a chair on one side of the table in the prison's interview room. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, Neal extends his hand. 

“Neal Caffrey.” He takes the opposite seat.

Marks whistles low. “ _The_ Neal Caffrey. I guess D really had made the big time.” 

“You know why we're here.”

Marks glances at Agent Burke sitting in the corner of the room.

“To see if I put a hit on the man that put me back in here?”

“Since you were enjoying Stateville's fine accommodations at the time, no that's not why we're here. You were a model prisoner until Agent Siegel was killed. Since then you've been in solitary for assaulting a guard. My guess is if you were going to kill Agent Siegel, it would have been up close and personal. Crime of passion.”

A small smile touches the cons lips, but doesn't extend much beyond. 

“That may be an accurate assessment.”

“Obviously there are things about Agent Siegel that the Feds didn't know. Right now they have _no_ leads. We need to know what you know, the David Siegel you knew.” 

A flash of bitterness lights through blue eyes.

“You're solving all these cases and getting to do things you wouldn't otherwise, but because it's on behalf of the fibbies you've got carte blanche. It's intoxicating. That feeling when something has been flawlessly executed just like working a score, it's a work of art unto itself. Without the threat of prison. And hey, I'm too pretty for prison.”

He lets that settle for a minute. Caffrey nods in kinship. 

 

“We worked a lot of cases, long hours. He crashed on my couch instead of going home more than a few nights. And my place was a dump, definitely shittier than what he was use to. But the other thing is in your blood. You' re always looking for an angle. Can't help it. So the first time he kissed me I was like here it is, my real in, fuck being a Fed bitch. And how stupid is this asshole to give me that kind of leverage. And then he kissed me again and I thought, oh well damn. David Siegel was a surprise. Working with him was...You know what it's like.”

Marks lifts his eyebrow in Burke's direction. Burke who is listening without listening shifts slightly in his seat, but remains quiet.

“Our relationship is strictly professional.”

“So was ours. D was married and then he wasn't. And then he wasn't on the couch anymore. We got close.” Blue eyes go a little unfocused with memory. 

That explains why their solve percentage wasn't higher, Neal thinks.

The man on the other side of the table slides back into himself then fixes Neal with a something cut off and appraising. 

“So you're here with your ball and chain, because you don't think it was a random street crime, wrong place wrong time. No way a civilian gets the drop on him. Or some wannabe gangster. Did he get any shots off?”

Neal is reminded that this man impersonated a police detective successfully for a couple of months when he was just shy of eighteen. The fact that he'd solved two fairly serious crimes committed against people in his neighborhood, one of which specifically involving an assault on his foster mother, contributed to the leniency in his sentencing. 

“He was shot in the heart, fairly close range so he saw his attacker. Possible knew them.”

“And he was armed?”

“We assume so, his service weapon is missing. There were no shell casings.”

“Why was he there? In that part of town? ”

Neal has no idea. The last time he saw Siegel they'd been making out against a building. He schools his features so none of that gets telegraphed to the man's grieving ex, but the convict is not watching Caffrey. Neal wants to turn away when sees the exact moment it hits Travis Marks again that David Siegel is dead. 

“He was so intent on maintaining that line that even when it was obliterated...the worst kind of con is the self-con. That got beaten into me pretty good in foster care. I didn't want him to shout it from the rooftops. I just wanted him to -'

“You didn't think that he would violate you?”

“No, I knew he would. I mean he arrested his godfather so... He was a straight arrow, of course he would. Lottery tickets, come on and getting caught. You know my sheet. I'm better than that. I wanted him to understand the loss, to understand that what we were doing was real. That we were real. He lost his family, but didn't consider it loss because it happened when he became johnny law. He chose to throw them away. But with me... He wasn't supposed to leave town. But that was D, surprising.” the man's hands curl into fists. 

Neal reaches across the table to put his hand around the other man's wrist. He relaxes his clenched fist allows the comfort. “I am profoundly sorry for your loss.” 

“Did she, did his wife claim...?”

“He hasn't been released yet.”

“Have you spoken to her at all.”

“The Chicago office notified her. Were they still in contact?”

“She didn't leave him because she didn't love him. She didn't want to be down in the dirt. 

“He went after his own pretty hard. Did he ever mention one name more than another? Any threats?”

Another bitter smile crosses Marks' face. 

“His crowd, that crowd was a little too blue blood if you know what I mean. They might have hated him, but actual blood on their hands, I think that is probably beneath them. They're more like the ruin your life through public humiliation, steal all your money and make you broke crowd. They kill you, but it's put you in a corner so you have no outs and you do the deed yourself. Keeps their hands clean.”

Travis stands and extends his hand to Neal. “I appreciate your coming. I appreciate what you're doing for D.”

The man's sorrow tugs at Neal. He doesn't want to send him back to solitary with images of Agent Siegel dead and alone on a New York sidewalk.

“What's your best memory of David?”

“When he stayed at my place it was a home.”

Travis Marks offers a melancholy smile before giving the burly guard a slight nod. Opening the heavy metal door, the guard leads him through and clangs it loudly shut behind him. Neal stares after him wishing there was more he could do. 

“You okay,” Agent Burke asks as he stretches himself to his full height.

“I don't think -”, Neal begins, but he can't bring himself to actually voice it. Burke glances at the closed door, meets Neal's eyes. Burke doesn't think either, neither of them says it out loud. 

 

Coda

 

The key feels like it's burning a hole in his pocket. Agent David Siegel slides his hand into his pocket to remind himself that the key has no actual heat. It's the same cold metal it was when it was pressed into his hand a week ago. It's late he rationalizes as he extracts the key from his pocket. No need to wake anyone up to answer the door. 

On the other side of the door the apartment is quiet. It's late, but it's not that late. It will never not be a source of amusement for David that his criminal informant is usually in bed by ten when they're not chasing down leads.

“I need my beauty rest.” He'd said the first time David called him on official business around 10:30 one evening. He'd been so flabbergasted he'd forgotten the business he'd called about and instead found himself in a spirited conversation about nothing in particular as far as he could remember, but it had left a smile on his face. That was becoming a problem with Travis Marks, he was distracting. He takes the key out of his pocket and slides it into the lock letting himself into his CI's expectedly dark living room.

Absently, without giving much thought to the domesticity of his actions, he drops his messenger bag by the door, shrugs off his suit jacket which he leaves draped over the couch and toes off his shoes. The lights remain off. Siegel maneuvers through the dark room to the bedroom likes he's been doing it for years. 

 

His CI is just where he expects to find him, just like he expects to find him. Naked and asleep under a thin blue 'it brings out my eyes', top sheet. Without hesitation he does the thing he's been thinking about since the moment there was enough of a break in a case he was working to allow him to leave the office for the night. Settling on the edge of the bed, he slips his hand under the sheet to caress a hip that bears faded finger shaped bruises. As soon as he makes that contact all the tension of the day leaves him. He strokes his thumb over soft skin. Precious skin.

Blue eyes blink open, take him in. His CI is also a light sleeper. “You're home,” Travis mumbles. And though the key is again burning in his pocket, David Siegel is unable to deal with that pronouncement. Instead, he bends low to fill Travis' mouth with his tongue. His hand slides from hip through wiry hair to stroke the CI's balls and half hard cock. Beneath his touch, Travis stretches and arches into David's hand. _I'm going to ruin my suit_ Siegel thinks as he uses his free hand to clear the sheet completely from Travis's body. 

Without breaking contact, he slides onto the bed, slipping his clothed leg between naked ones. His thigh and hand both rubbing against Travis in the slow sensuous rhythm they both like. Travis' cum painting the fabric of his expensive suit is a kink David will never be able to admit out loud. The way Travis undulates as he wraps his leg around David and presses against him says he probably already knows. Understands.

From there it devolves the way it does when they're like this. The sheets and pillows end up on the floor, the fitted comes untucked from all four corners. He switches from filling Travis' mouth with his tongue, to filling his mouth with Travis' cock. As he does, Travis clenches his fingers tight in blond hair letting his mouth spill some of the nicest, sweetest things anyone's ever said to David. He tries not to hear them.

Later, he wakes with a start, the suit gone, sticky and wrinkled on the floor. His head pillowed against Travis' chest, he soaks up the warmth of the possessive arm across his shoulders. In spite of his best efforts, the words Travis murmured earlier insinuate themselves into his consciousness. For just a moment, he allows them to penetrate his soul.

A few hours before sunrise David eases himself from beneath Travis' arm. “Don't get up.” 

“Ssh, go back to sleep.” He presses a kiss against Travis' palm as he slides the rest of the way free. 

Watching the steady rise and fall of his lover's chest, he quietly re-dresses himself in his fouled suit. The key brushes against his leg as he pulls his pants up. It's like a bucket of icy water dousing him. 

He leaves the key on the kitchen counter. He's heard that the New York office is looking for a replacement for Peter Burke. He knows that if he tosses his hat in the ring he'd be a good contender. Probably the main contender. That's not bragging, that's numbers. His and Travis' numbers are second only to the flagship arrangement between Peter Burke and Neal Caffrey. Chicago is not exactly a small pond, but New York is...

New York is no history. No elevator button making heir. In New York he would just be Agent David Siegel. Not a man so damaged by his upbringing that even in the midst of his dream career, he can't help the self sabotage of crossing the line with Travis. He can't keep himself from wallowing in the dirt. 

 

At first Travis thinks it's some kind of optical illusion, maybe something to do with the way the light is hitting the kitchen counter. It takes him longer to process that it isn't an illusion than it should. David let himself into the apartment last night so he had his key, but now that key is on the kitchen counter. It's not the kind of thing he would forget. The placement is deliberate, not to be missed. The fullness of what that means rocks Travis in a way nothing has in a long while. He doesn't allow things to rock him, but that was before he agreed to be an official CI.

The hurt he feels goes deep. It's the same hurt he felt the first couple of times he'd been moved out of foster homes where he'd thought things were going great. Then he came to understand foster meant temporary with none of the power on his side. David Siegel's smell is still on his skin. The taste of him still in his mouth. Like bile.


End file.
